The Lonely Wanderer
by NekoLen
Summary: Just a one-shot descriptive piece for Garry. R&R and enjoy. Rated for slight mention of gore and horror.


_Hi guys, my name is NekoLen and this is my IB FF. IDK, I played the game awhile ago and fell in love with the story, especially with Garry. So now I will attempt a one-shot of Garry's day leading up to when he meets Ib._

The Lonely Wanderer

The man sat alone at the busy cafe, steadily drinking his cup of tea and eating his macaroon. He was quietly gazing about, watching the people go about their business. He enjoyed watching people and would rather sit alone then try and strike up conversations with people. He was a regular at the cafe, so all the staff knew what he liked. They would make sure he'd have his cup of herbal tea and macaroon, and even go out of their way to make sure his favourite table wasn't taken. He appreciated their kindness and in turn, he tipped them as much as he could.

He glanced at his watch, wondering when the new exhibit would open. Garry wouldn't call himself the most fashionable or cultured man around, but he was fascinated by art, especially the works done by Guertena. This was the first time that the local art gallery exhibited his art and Garry was extremely excited by the prospect of beholding the works with his own eyes.

Garry was a quiet guy, he had always been reserved and polite. When he was younger, he had been picked on. He was called a girl and even gay, just because of his habit of speaking softly. He couldn't see why he should waste energy by asserting himself, when if he was nice he would receive the same outcome. But because of this, he had hardly any friends. He pretended that it didn't bother him, but deep down he was extremely lonely.

When he went to the art gallery to look at the paintings and sculptures, he could get lost into the artist's word. He could be whatever he wanted, and he didn't have to bear the loneliness by himself. Guertena's habit of painting things from his imagination and making people up based on those he knew in his life fascinated Garry. He wished that he could do such a thing himself. Even though he lived in a fairy-tale world of his own imaginings, he could never be proud of it enough to show others. He was afraid of the ridicule that he would receive.

He finished his treat and tea, leaving the small cafe as quietly as he had arrived. He put his hands in the pockets of his worn blue-grey coat, feeling the sweet he had put in there that morning. He pulled it out, and observed the yellow packaging. He wasn't fond of lemon-flavoured sweets, but something had told him that he should take it with him to the gallery. He never ignored his hunches as he believed that everything happens for a reason.

When he arrived at the gallery, he was happy to see that the doors were open. He made his way up the familiar stone steps, barely containing his excitement. He was ready to get sucked into the world of his favourite artist.

The gallery was nearly empty as he strolled through the rooms, hovering before the paintings. He liked the titles and the descriptions of the works, supported by the pamphlet he had picked up from the reception. He wanted to look at everything in detail and before he knew it, the gallery was full.

He continued to look at every piece quietly, listening to the other people discuss the art with each other. He wondered what it would be like to be forever immortalised in paint. To have people visit you and discuss how beautiful you were. To be valued by complete strangers. He liked the thought and wondered how he could get a painting of himself done.

As he moved towards the top floor, he noticed a small girl enter the gallery with her parents. She looked well-behaved and quiet, reminding him of himself when he was that young. He smiled lightly to himself, continuing up the stairs. One painting caught his attention. The Hanged Man was a painting that Garry had always wanted to see with his own eyes. The brushwork was amazing and the detail even much so. He stared at the man's sad upside-down face, and how the rope that hung him from his foot was painted. He felt as if this was an omen for what was to come.

He closed his eyes for what felt like a second. He felt a sharp pain in his heart and snapped open his eyes. He was in a strange room, the lights were dim and the paintings seemed different. They seemed to be... alive. Confused, Garry wondered down the long room, trying all the doors. He stopped in front of a small table. On the table sat a vase and in the vase sat a single blue rose. He felt compelled to pick it up. He had never seen a rose in that colour before.

As he picked it up, the atmosphere changed. He heard what sounded like a heartbeat pounding loudly. He was certain that it wasn't his own. He glanced around the room; feeling like someone was watching him. His eyes fell upon a painting of a beautiful woman dressed in blue. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that he was just in a dream.

He approached the painting with care, feeling his stomach knot up uncomfortably like something bad was going to happen. He leaned in to read the painting's description, unsure if he had ever seen the lady in the pamphlet.

'_Stay here and play with us forever,_' it read, the words glistening in red ink. He stepped back, staring up at the painting in wonder. As he tried to make sense of what he had just read, he noticed blue ink drip from the painting. Curious, he reached up to see if the paint was still wet.

Suddenly, with a deafening demonic growl, the lady jumped from the wall and latched onto his hand. Screaming in fright, Garry dropped the blue rose and shook her off. He ran away, until he was out of breath. Stooped over, he glanced around and realised that he was by the table with the vase on it again. He straightened up and tried to calm himself. It was just a bad dream. He would wake up soon and be safe in his bed or something.

He noticed something under the table. He got onto his knees and reached under, grabbing the small metal item. He looked at it, realising it was a key. Maybe he could unlock one of these doors with it. He got to his feet and immediately felt dizzy. His skin felt like it was on fire. He collapsed again, staring in horror as gashes appeared on his body.

Panic settled in as he blindly tried to drag himself towards a door, holding the key so tightly that he felt it digging into his palm. He knew that he had to get out of here and fast. But as he got closer to the door, the pain stopped him from progressing any further. He lay on his stomach, watching the blood pour from the wounds on his arms. '_This is it..._' he thought to himself as his world started to turn black. '_I'm going to die here alone._'

As his world went black, he thought he heard someone call his name. He tried to open his eyes against the darkness, but his blood veiled his sight. He felt someone take the key and heard footsteps run away. He didn't know who it was, but he hoped they would save him. He spent his life alone; he didn't want to die alone too.


End file.
